


• Beaded and Choked •

by ShesGoneRogue



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M, Oral, Rimming, Schmoop, light dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 16:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16559675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShesGoneRogue/pseuds/ShesGoneRogue
Summary: The post HFA fic that was never meant to happen...now expanded in response to demand. (Never say I don't love you, Dear Readers)As always, a million thanks to my boo and the best Beta ever, @thoresque...you make me look good.*all mistakes are my own*





	• Beaded and Choked •

"Take it off."

"What?"

The door had barely closed behind them, the lights still off.

Armie toggles a switch and dim overheads begin to glow softly. "The jacket. Take it off. Now."

Tim backs away, his eyes widening as Armie carelessly tosses his own jacket aside and struggles out of his restrictive turtleneck. He yanks it over his head with a curse and drops it as he takes a threatening step toward Tim. His eyes are wild. His hair in a crazy disarray of spikes and static. He looks possessed.

Tim's mouth falls open in a surprised 'oh', his steps still shuffling steadily backwards as Armie continues to advance.

"Don't make tell you again."

Tim falters, finally stopping and tentatively reaching for the lapels of his jacket as his throat works with a dry click. "Are-are you okay, Armie?" He slowly pushes it back off his bare shoulders, wiry arms flexing as he lets it slide down.

"No. No, I am  _not_  okay. This whole fucking night—" he pants, "I stood there and smiled in this ridiculous get up, stifled. Choked. I kept my hands to myself. I played  _nice_. I don't wanna play nice anymore."

Tim's eyes fall to the marks on Armie's neck, the marks  _he_  put there last night. He starts to smile, but it's cut short by Armie's hands at his waist, his fingers wrapping around to the bare skin of his back just beneath the third strap holding the exquisite beadwork bib in place against his torso. He gasps as he's roughly shoved against the wall in the entry way, family pictures jumping and rattling against the sheetrock around him. "What are you gonna do to me?" he asks breathlessly.

Armie crowds him, his hands squeezing just a little too hard as he leans down close to Tim's ear and growls, "I think a better question would be what am I  _not_  going to do you..."

Tim bites his lip and drops his head back with a groan, his hands reaching out to grip Armie's hips and pull him closer. "I don't have long. My flight’s in a few hours." 

"Fuck your flight. Bump it," Armie growls against his neck, his hips grinding as Tim slides his hands around and squeezes his ass.

"You know I can't."

"Goddammit. There's never enough time..."

"We had last night." Tim sounds weak, his voice breaking on the last word.

"Not enough." He continues to bite at Tim's neck, sucking down and scraping his teeth roughly over the skin so that he can watch the welts rise. Armie moves his hands to the front of Tim's trousers, barely shifting away enough to give himself room to maneuver.

Tim starts to reach for the ribbons hanging down his sides.

"Nuh-uh. Don't you dare."

"They'll kill me if I ruin this."

"Fuck it. I'll buy it."

Tim snorts. "It's not for sale. I had to promise to return it in one piece."

Armie pulls back and looks him dead in the eyes. "I. Don't. Care." He slides Tim's zipper down and drops to his knees.

Tim whimpers.

Armie snuffles at the little sliver of exposed belly and wispy trail of hair leading down into Tim's trousers. He looks back up over the expanse of sparkling beadwork and blinks slowly. "Do you?" he breathes over his skin. “Care?”

Tim looks down and grins, shakes his head as he grips a handful of Armie's hair.

"Didn't think so," Armie answers with his own shit-eating grin. He's got him right where he wants him. He slips his fingers into the waistband of Tim's pants at either side and watches as he slowly pulls them lower, exposing more and more skin. No underwear? He forgets how to breathe as a peek of red finally comes into view and his eyes jerk up to find Tim staring down at him with smug half smile. "You didn't?"

"Well, she didn't have any ruby slippers I could borrow to go with the theme, so I really had no choice."

"You're a sick little fucker, you know that? You wore  _my wife's_  panties to accept an award...presented by  _me_?"

Tim bites his lip and nods, a slight tinge of worry touching his eyes.

Armie shakes his head a little and plants a kiss on his belly. "Just when I thought I couldn't possibly love you more than I already do."

Tim exhales and smiles softly, his fingers curling in Armie's hair. "Show me." His eyes darken as he tugs a little, drawing a quiet hiss from Armie.

Armie pulls his attention away from Tim's face and back to the task at hand with his heartbeat throbbing in the back of his throat. He wants to tear him apart. He wants to worship him. He wants it all, and he wants it  _now_. Impatient fingers tug a little harder at the fabric and the stark contrast of ruby red against milky white is fully revealed. "Fuck  _me_..." he exhales explosively.

"You want me to?" Tim teases, sounding well pleased with himself.

Armie flicks his eyes up briefly and shakes his head. "Not a chance, baby boy. Tonight you're  _mine_." He leans forward and mouths at him hungrily through the lace, inhaling his scent with deep, loud sniffs.

Tim drops his other hand to Armie's head and holds him in place, his hips pushing forward. "God, Armie..."

Armie releases the pants and lets them slide down and pool around Tim's ankles, opting instead to reach around and caress the silky lace stretched across Tim's firm little ass. "Tim..." He feels him twitch against his mouth, his hot skin growing damp through the lace from his ragged breaths and searching tongue. He looks up again as he moves to the side and takes part of the fabric pushed away from him by his erection between his teeth and pulls.

The little tug on the already strained slip of lace is just enough to allow Tim's cock rise and peek above the low riding band. Armie smiles up at him as he releases it with a soft pop and moves to lap at the dew already beading at his slit.

"How long have you been hard in these?"

"I've been fighting it all night...imagining your face when you saw them."

Armie swipes his tongue over the head again. "Devious."

Tim smirks. "Wicked." he corrects, eyes flicking to the beadwork.

Armie tugs at the panties from the back and swallows him whole as he springs free, effectively wiping the playful look off Tim's face in an instant.

"Jesus—fuck!"

Armie tastes a bitter spill of precum and feels his own cock strain almost painfully against the front of his pants. He sucks softly, buries his nose in Tim's curls, and pulls back with his tongue curving and lapping against the full length of Tim's cock before scraping his teeth ever so lightly over the taut skin of the crown.

Tim vibrates, every muscle tense and breath held. "Not yet...please, god, not yet."

Armie smiles to himself as he pulls off, inwardly gloating at his ability to reduce Tim to a trembling mess the within minutes and with just a few flicks of his tongue. He kisses along his length, nuzzling him and letting his cock drag over the stubble of his cheeks, his puffy lips, eyelashes—all while slyly unlacing Tim’s shoes and slipping his pants off his feet.

Once he's pulled Tim’s socks off, he rises to his feet and unfastens his own pants, leaving Tim to lean back against the wall and  _wait_. "Don't move...I want to remember this."

Tim nods dreamily, licking his lips as Armie undresses to his underwear. He is a vision Armie won't soon forget--mussed hair, flushed cheeks, glimmering beads and wet lace stretched beneath his jutting cock.

"Look what you do to me," Armie says, awed, firmly gripping the thick outline of his own cock through black cotton. He rubs himself and watches Tim follow every movement. A firm squeeze brings forth a wet patch where the head pushes against the fabric and Tim's eyes widen. He looks  _hungry_. "This is all for you."

Tim whimpers, his cock jumping and drooling as he scrapes his fingertips against the sheetrock. "Mine," he whispers under his breath.

Armie pushes his shorts down and kicks them away, one hand going to his balls, the other wrapping around his thick shaft. "Remember this...now, turn around. Hands on the wall."

Tim squeezes his eyes shut like he's committing it to memory and does as he's told. His hands find space between the pictures and brace as he drops his head.

Armie watches and squeezes himself harder, summoning up every ounce of willpower he has not to take Tim right then and there. He takes a deep breath and steps forward, both hands skimming down the length of Tim's bare back, over the satin straps, and down to the red lace stretched across his hips. "My God, you're so beautiful," he whispers.

Tim shudders and arches his back. "Please, Armie..."

"Shh…" He soothes him with gentle thumbs circling the tense muscles of his lower back as he allows his cockhead to brush against the cleft of Tim’s ass. He gives the lowest strap a little tug and watches it nip into Tim's sides.

Tim makes a soft plaintive noise, his fingers curling and uncurling against the wall.

Armie goes to his knees again and mouths softly at one cheek and then the other, looking his fill as he tugs the panties further down and lets them bunch around his thighs. "Spread your legs wider for me, baby.”

Tim responds silently, shifting his feet apart so that the lace bites into the skin just above his knees.

"Beautiful..." Armie murmurs. “Being so good for me.” He lays his palms over each cheek and Tim pushes his ass out as if to give him better purchase. Armie savors the size difference—Tim’s tiny peach of an ass held in his large hands as he gently pulls his cheeks apart and leans forward. Tim's musk fills his senses with the first slow lick over his entrance. Armie moans obscenely and goes in deep. He can hear a thud on the wall above him, then a distinct sob as Tim’s back arcs, pushing his ass against Armie’s face, taking his pleasure. 

"Yes, god, yes..."

Armie spreads him farther, his tongue pressing gently at his opening and finding little resistance. He loses track of who is making the most noise as he dips in and sucks at his rim.

As he begins fucking him with his tongue, he feels something knock at his head—Tim’s hand fumbling for his hair. He bats it away and chastens him with a scrape of sharp teeth. Tim doesn’t try it again.

Armie chuckles against him, his words muffled, "Good boy." He rewards Tim with a deeper thrust, his tongue swirling and jabbing as his lips close around his rim. The sounds issuing from Tim's mouth are music to his ears, his shaking legs their own reward. He pulls back after a minute and nips at the curve of one cheek. "Shall we see if you can come like this?"

Tim huffs a strained laugh. "If you only knew how close I was before you stopped."

Armie laps at him again and chuckles. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." Tim follows with several deep breaths through his nose.

"Still pretty sensitive from last night?" Armie wonders if Tim can feel his prideful grin.

"Fuck you," Tim snorts and shakes his head.

Armie could almost swear he can hear the blood rushing to Tim's face. "I told you,” he nips at him, “Not tonight." He pulls back and slaps his ass, nudges Tim to stand up with him. "Come with me." He takes his hand and leads him to the couch, Tim kicking off the panties along the way. Armie gently presses him down and kneels between his legs, running his hands up Tim's thighs as he considers their options. "In all seriousness though...if you're still that sensitive, I don't think you can take me again tonight."

Tim opens his mouth to protest, but Armie lays over him and quiets him with a kiss. He pulls back when Tim stops fighting him and looks down into the sheen of his eyes in the soft light filtering in from the entry way. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Armie..." Tim sighs and cups his cheek, his fingers curling around his ear and tugging a little. "We've been through this. I'm not some delicate little flower. You're not gonna break me."

"No, but you're already sore. Can't have you miserable for the entire six hour flight, can we? What will Sersh say when you limp on to set tomorrow?"

Tim groans. "You have a point, but she would never say anything. Can we please stop negotiating now?" he pleads, nudging his hips up to gain friction.

Armie grins down at him. "Is that what we were doing? I thought I was stalling so you could last longer than two minutes." He bends down and kisses the tip of Tim's nose.

Tim is just shaping his mouth for another 'fuck you', but bites it off at Armie's raised brow and laughs instead. " _Touché_. You know it's your fault right?"

Armie pauses in the trail he'd already started to kiss along Tim's cheek. "What's my fault?"

"That I can't last more than five minutes."

Armie licks at his jaw. "I believe I said _two_."

"Fuck—"

"You keep offering and I may just give in."

Tim squeezes his ass and grinds up against him. "Do we have time?"

Armie glances up at the clock and spares a thought for prep time. "No. But we have time for other things." He goes back to Tim's neck and reaches down between them.

Tim gasps and spreads his thighs wider, straining up into Armie's grip with one heel digging into the cushion and the other foot planted on the floor.

Armie moves his chest against the beadwork, a little thrill shivering up the length of spine as his nipples contract. He braces one hand and pushes himself up to look down at Tim as he now pulls himself into the hand already around Tim's dick and strokes slowly. "You with me?" he pants quietly, finding himself closer to the edge than anticipated with the heat of Tim's erection pressed against his own.

Tim nods weakly, his eyes rolling back and mouth falling open as he reaches up to grip Armie's shoulders.

"Do you think you can take one finger?"

Tim swallows hard and nods more emphatically. "Yes. Yes, _please_."

Armie takes his hand away and backs down, settling himself between Tim's thighs. He pulls Tim's legs over his shoulders and brings his middle finger to his mouth to wet it before circling him and prodding gently. When Tim makes no move to shy away, he presses in. "I want you to come in my mouth," Armie whispers, taking his length in one slow slide.

Armie watches intently as Tim arches his neck and presses the top of his head against a throw pillow when he swallows around him. His finger finds Tim’s core easily and presses against it, stroking the spot with a ‘come hither’ motion, as if coaxing his orgasm to the surface. It works--it takes less than a minute before Tim is trembling and calling out to him, his cock thick and spasming just seconds before his load nearly chokes Armie with the force of it jetting down his throat. He relaxes the pressure on his prostate and lets Tim take over, rocking with his thrusts into his hungry mouth as each new wave crashes over him.

Tim cries out wordlessly through the entirety of his orgasm, sobbing like he didn't come three times just the night before.

Armie closes his eyes and savors every sound, every salty-bitter drop, knowing it will be the last for a while. Only when Tim finally eases back onto the sofa does Armie pull off, leaving a series of soft kisses along his softening cock before gently lowering his legs and rising up to a kneel. He's so hard it literally hurts, but doesn't immediately move to take care of himself, choosing instead to allow the image of a sweaty, sated Tim in couture beadwork to sink into his memories. He reaches for himself and starts tugging slowly just as Tim's eyes blink open and a drowsy smile curves his flushed lips.

"Admiring your work?" he mumbles coyly.

Armie nods, "Mm... A masterpiece, if I do say so myself."

Tim licks his lips, his eyes wandering all up and down Armie's body before settling on the hand working his cock. "I could say the same...god, you're so fucking sexy."

Armie tilts his head back and strokes a little faster. "Don't stop...keep talking to me..."

"I love watching you jerk off, Armie--the images keep me warm at night. I dream about it. Your hand on your cock…my name in your mouth."

Armie groans and grips the back of the couch with his free hand. "Tim..." It comes out broken.

"But you know what I love even more?"

Armie bites his lip and makes an inquisitive hum.

"Leaving with a part of you inside me..."

Armie grunts, his eyes snapping open to find Tim pulling his knees up with both hands, baring himself to Armie. "Please...just the tip. Just a little," he pleads with doe eyes.

It’s all too much—the image of Timmy, open and flushed and  _greedy_ for him—and Armie can't find the presence of mind to protest. He leans down and positions himself just as the initial shock of impending climax jolts through his body, barely getting his head in position as the first pulse leaves him on a shout of Tim's name.

Tim reaches for his hips and yanks him forward with a vice-like grip, taking him all in one rough go. "Fuck— _yes_!"

Armie collapses helplessly over him, his body taking over, drilling into Tim's heat over and over again with every throbbing wave coursing through him, his vision blurring at the edges. "Oh god, oh fuck—Tim!" He bites down on his neck and grunts like a beast, hips twitching with the final thrusts.

Tim traps him with his legs, his arms wrapped around his shoulders and soft hands kneading his back. "Don't move. Please. Just stay for a minute." His voice is taut, strained with discomfort.

Armie keeps his hips still but raises himself up to look at him. "Why did you do that? Shit-are you okay?" He searches his eyes and palms the side of his face.

Tim nods and smiles, his eyes sparkling a little too brightly. "Yes, I'm fine...and you know  _why_."

Armie kisses him slowly, softly, gently pulling back inch by inch until Tim finally relents and lets him go.

Tim takes a deep, shuddery breath and throws one arm over his eyes as Armie sits up. "I don't wanna go."

"I know, baby. I don't want you to either." He rubs his thighs soothingly until Tim pulls his arm away and smiles weakly.

"You're still coming to New York in a few days, right?"

Armie nods.

"We can go to that chicken place you like."

Armie can tell that Tim is trying to placate himself and work up the strength to get ready to leave him. "You know the way to my heart." He grins and holds out a hand to help him up. "Let's go get you cleaned up." Tim takes it and grabs his bicep with his other hand, leaning into him as they make their way to the master bath.

Armie turns on the shower without letting go of him and then turns to help him out of his top. "Look...not a bead missing," he says softly, almost proudly, as he takes his time undoing the straps. "You looked amazing in this. Thank you for indulging me." He reverently lifts the heavy fabric away from Tim's chest and kisses his forehead before carefully setting it aside.

Tim blushes and squirms, trying to hide his big goofy grin by turning away to step into the shower.

Armie steps in behind him and pulls him back close to his chest. "Nothing to say?" he murmurs softly against his ear.

Tim turns in his arms and buries his face, nuzzling into his shoulder. Armie can feel him shaking.

"Hey...hey, it's okay." He runs his hands down Tim's back and squeezes him gently. "It's just a few days."

Tim nods against him and pulls back with a sniff. He avoids eye contact and immediately steps under the flow of water, rubbing at his face.

Armie allows him a moment before joining him. He takes him in his arms again and kisses him with all the weight of things left unsaid.

If a few tears of his own slip down his cheeks as he helps him clean up, neither of them acknowledges it.


End file.
